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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26095009">If You Let Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackidy/pseuds/Jackidy'>Jackidy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, M/M, Minor canon divergence, Multi, Slow Burn, ienzo/zexion centric, side akusai</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:48:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26095009</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackidy/pseuds/Jackidy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s almost a shame really, that you probably won’t survive this.” Only he did. Spending the prelude to adulthood as a nobody, a supposed empty husk of a being was never an option any of them considered, least of all a newly named Zexion who would be living every last one of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Demyx/Zexion (Kingdom Hearts)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Years 0 to 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Something I've been wanting to write since KH3 came out last year and, after a brief stint in hospital a couple of weeks ago, I finally got my arse in gear and planned this story out to some extent. A short first chapter but things should get longer after this as Zexion gets older.</p><p>Please note, I am dyslexic so some errors will slip through</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Year 0</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He’s half asleep when the shouting begins, Even shaking him awake with a panicked look on his face and Ienzo doesn’t understand it, not fully, blinking slowly as he attempted to register what was going on. Panic. Shouting. Even holding his arms, a little too tightly with a frantic look in his eyes that does nothing but scare Ienzo. Why was he so scared?</p><p>“I need you to hide for me, hide for me and don’t make a sound. Can you do that, Ienzo?” Ienzo doesn’t get chance to respond, Dilan shouting something outside catching Even’s attention, something hissed under his bis breath that’s drowned out by the noise outside before he turns back to Ienzo. His expression softens, hands brushing hair from blue eyes as a kiss is placed against his forehead. “Go on now, go hide.”</p><p>The child does as he’s told, ducking under Even’s desk, curling up in the corner. Hands slide over ears as there’s a scream, something thudding against the door. Was Dilan hurt? Shouldn’t they help? He doesn’t understand, why are they hiding when they could help? Even could heal Dilan and then they could find everyone else and leave before whatever attacked Dilan attacked them all too.</p><p>He doesn’t want to lose his family. Not again.</p><p>The office door doesn’t slam open so much as creak, eerily quiet and somehow more terrifying than if it had slammed, Ienzo clamping his lips together to stop himself from letting out a shuddering breath. Even had told him to be quiet so he would be quiet, he’d looks so serious, so afraid. What was scary enough to make Even scared and Dilan shout?</p><p>Where were Aeleus and Braig?</p><p>“Where is Ienzo?”</p><p>“Not in here, what do you want?”</p><p>Static seems to build in his head, setting his brain alight as his heart rate spiked. He knows that voice, the new member of the family who didn’t speak to him much unless he wanted something. The one who told him to ask Ansem for the lab where the bad things always happened.</p><p>“Research.”</p><p>The pressure on his ears grows as he hears them fight, clamping his eyes closed and counting to ten and then back again in his head, the static almost painful when he feels it. The desk pushes against him as a thud echoes above him, eyes flying open to look above him then to the side as a hand comes into view. Pale, weathered, almost as familiar as his own.</p><p>Why wasn’t Even moving?</p><p>Hands clamp over his mouth as a whimper leaves his lips, pacing footsteps stopping before coming closer, slowly as if the owner didn’t know he was here and he didn’t, right? He’d behaved, he’d been quiet. Even wasn’t going to be mad with him when he woke up, he stayed quiet like he was supposed to. He’d behaved. He’d been good.</p><p>The creak of wood beside him makes him jolt, eyes flicking from the hand to the side of him. The static stops. Everything stops bar the impulse to run, wanting to desperately to move but paralysed as blue meets orange, a tanned face flickering between a lack of surprise to something almost feral and beast like. Lips curve up into a smile, in no way friendly, the need to run growing larger and more desperate as Xehanort leaned forward.</p><p>“Found you.”</p><p>Ienzo bolts, not making it far before he’s grabbed, a scream ripping from his throat as he’s dragged, over Even’s crumpled form, the grip ever tightening the more he tried to pull away and he knows. He knows he’s not felt fear like this since he lost his parents and now, he was losing them all over again, desperately reaching for Even before being thrown to the floor.</p><p>“I really should thank you, if you hadn’t convinced that old fool, we’d never have reached such marvels.”</p><p>It was his fault? He’d caused all this? Ienzo looks from Even to Xehanort, another whimper escaping his lips as the tears welled up. It was his fault Even and, most certainly Dilan, were hurt. Were Aeleus and Braig hurt too? What about those two strange boys who kept wandering in and bribing his silence with ice cream? How many people were going to be hurt because he convinced Ansem to build a new lab?</p><p>“It’s almost a shame really, that you probably won’t survive this.”</p><p>He only sees the glint of light on the keyblade before he succumbs to the darkness.</p>
<hr/><p><em>Year 1</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“You need to focus!”</p><p>He hates the lessons, Zexion swallowing back a retort as Vexen’s voice cut through his concentration once more, the image of what he was trying to manifest crumbling into nothing, leaving nothing but the dark space of the lab once more. As Even he’d been warmer in voice and spirit, he’d lectured him enough when he’d misbehaved but his voice was never as cold as ice when he did it, never cutting in the way it lacked encouragement.</p><p>“I’m trying.” Zexion responded, training the anger out of his voice least he be admonished for expressing emotions as well. We don’t have hearts, we’re not supposed to feel, he’s been told this time and time again yet each one of his mentors has exhibited something close to the human range of emotion. Was it one rule for them and another for him?</p><p>Letting out a deep breath he tries again, taking his time as he tries to picture what Vexen wants. A Shadow Heartless. This should be easy, there were thousands of them outside in the city below, Zexion furrowing his brows as he focused on the image, managing to drown out Vexen’s ever helpful criticisms.</p><p>It’s then he feels the shift, staring in confusion at the blank space before him before looking up to Vexen who was quiet but not mad. Why wasn’t he mad? He hadn’t don’t as the other had asked, there was no Shadow Heartless, just the blank white floor of an overly white castle.</p><p>“Not what I expected but impressive all the same.” Vexen mutters, scribbling something down on the clipboard he held, Ignoring Zexion in favour of recording whatever feat Zexion had apparently performed. Looking down at his hands, Zexion falters, expecting gloves hands but instead finding small black claws.</p><p>He hadn’t made the heartless, he’d become it. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The library is the safest space to hide, Zexion has found, heavy book in hand and a secluded corner to hide from the other seven but someone will find him eventually, they always do and, as always, he can only hope its Lexaeus as opposed to Xigbar or Axel, the latter of which continues to look at him like everything was his fault.</p><p>Maybe it was, Xehanort had stated as much before he became this husk and now, now someone who wasn’t there joins in the conviction.</p><p>The guilt gnaws at him, book abandoned on the floor beside him as he tries to remember the smell of the gardens in spring, when Kairi’s grandmother would bring her to visit whilst she talked with master Ansem. The ever-present rain around the Castle the Never Was fades away, replaced by a gentle breeze and a shadow of the feeling of sunlight on his skin.</p><p>Was Kairi okay? He can barely remember her voice now but he remembers the red hair, how she’d pull him round the gardens, telling him about the different flowers how one day they’d go on an adventure today. How she’d make sure to keep him safe from monsters. He’s not sure how she could do that now, since he had become the monster.</p><p>“Do you think we could still be friends?” He mumbles to his silent illusion, watching her run amongst the flower beds, picking one or two and always bringing them back to him as their guardian and protector until she’d finished collecting one flower seemingly of every colour and every type. “I think she’ll love them; she always does.” He replies to her mouthed question of if he thinks her Grandma will like her make shift bouquet.</p><p>He’s not sure how long he lingers in this illusion of his own memories, almost lost in the sea of flowers and warmth when he smells it. The scene shatters into nothing as fire and ash fill his senses, swallowing thickly and curling up as the smell got ever closer. It hadn’t worked before when he was under a desk, why would it work now?</p><p>He’ll be shouted at. He doesn’t want to be shouted at. Tears already pricking at his eyes when the smell of a forest fire becomes too much, he has to become smaller, has to disappear. He needs to hide. He needs to hide. HE NEEDS TO HIDE. His body screams at him to move as the footsteps finally round the bookcase, a click of a tongue and the sound of a hand hitting another body.</p><p>“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the li- Oh shit, are you crying?”</p><p>Two bodies press against him, fire on one side and something almost beastly on the other, Saix had joined Axel then, Zexion finding some comfort in the sudden warmth and pressure but it was still not enough to fully dampen the sudden spike of anxiety. The silence isn’t as tense as he first believed, Zexion slowly calming down to the point he could look at the pair who had joined him only to find Saix glaring at Axel who at least looked sheepish.</p><p>“I feel-“ A clearing of the throat interrupts, Axel glaring at Saix before sighing. “I have misplaced anger towards you, I’m sorry for snapping at you. You’re a kid, I don’t see how you could be involved.”</p><p>He wasn’t expecting an apology, Zexion looking between the pair again, knowing he was missing something important in the discussion but perhaps not something to ask about. The last time he’d tried to help it had inevitably ended with an abyss for a chest and a spreading darkness. Perhaps this time, this time he doesn’t ask, he doesn’t intervene with his help only to ruin the result later on.</p><p>It would be better that way.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Safety also came with Lexaeus, Zexion decided, sitting on the stool by the counter as the other prepared food, Zexion easily losing himself in the smell of the raw ingredients, legs swinging idly as he sat simply watching. Lexaeus doesn’t expect too much from him, doesn’t look at him as if it’s his fault, he treats him almost the same as he did when they were both human.</p><p>It’s nice, comforting.</p><p>“How have lessons been going?” His deep voice is soothing, Zexion hesitating vocally but his face spills all, a look of distaste and annoyance twisting his features, causing a chuckle from the taller man. “That good, hmm?” He’s teasing, Zexion knows this, but still feels somewhat told off, blowing his hair from his eyes and crossing his arms. It’s childish, he knows but, memory serves, he was only nine regardless of his ability to feel emotions or not.</p><p>“I’ve discovered more things on my own, he wants me to do things I don’t really want to.” He receives a hum in response, both in agreement and encouragement to go on, as if genuinely interested in what Zexion had to say about his lessons with Vexen. But would he share these thoughts or keep them to himself? Was it worth the risk?</p><p>Apparently so, words spilling from Zexion’s mouth before he could really stop himself. “They’re boring, if not that he tells me to concentrate and then speaks halfway through and ruins my concentration.”</p><p>“He says that you mimicked a heartless.”</p><p>“Yes, once.” It’s all Vexen wanted him to concentrate on now, it seemed, the blonde growing more frustrated with him when he couldn’t, a blessing in and of itself as it usually meant Zexion would be left alone for a little while until Vexen came back and the rigorous routine of failing to become a replica would start all over again. He should probably practise more without his mentor present, Zexion thinks, knowing things came a bit more naturally when he didn’t feel under observation</p><p>The conversation ends there, the comfortable silence settling back over them again. Zexion has always found it a wonder that someone with such large, strong hands could be so gentle with food, wrinkling his nose at the sting of onions in his sinuses but staying silent otherwise. Maybe he should learn, free up time for Lexaeus whilst also add a task to his schedule that extended beyond lessons with Vexen and the frequent trips to the library.</p><p>“I can show you what else I’ve learnt.”</p><p>Lexaeus stops working then, turning to the child Nobody with an almost confused yet utterly curious look, raising an eyebrow at the young boy who feels almost giddy for once. He hadn’t shown anyone else this, not even Axel and Saix when they would now occasionally join him to, in Axel’s own words, make sure he grew up with a sense of humour.</p><p>He gets no prompt to continue but Zexion does anyway, taking a deep breath before twisting the landscape of the kitchen into something more friendly and familiar. The white floor fades away to stone, the walls swallowed by the landscape of Radiant garden, an autumnal breeze in the air as the sun offered little to no warmth from its rays.</p><p>The flower beds have mostly withered away, the sea of colour now replaced with muted browns and greens, the brilliant oranges and yellows of fallen leaves offering the only real splashes of colour in the imagined gardens. What smells, what smells, Zexion racking his mind for anything before landing on spices. Cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and pepper, warm and hearty, comforting and familiar. The kitchen is no longer the kitchen but the gardens of the old castle they called home.</p><p>Sounds. It needs sounds. Zexion furrowing his brow as he concentrated, eyes screwing shut as the sound of water trickled in, accompanied by bird song and the sound of the town below. It’s perfect, his breaths coming a little harder from exertion as he looks to Lexaeus for a reaction, hoping for happiness only to receive concern.</p><p>“Did I do something wrong?” His voice is quiet, insecure, mind running a mile a minute as he tried to go over what he did to cause such a reaction only to snap out of his thoughts as a hand comes down on his shoulder, gentle yet firm, grounding him as he nearly sent himself spiralling into another downward trajectory of ill thoughts.</p><p>Lexaeus offers a smile, small but still there, not as warm as it used to be but Zexion was growing used to the changes in his other apprentices now. “No, it’s beautiful.” There’s something else there, something the giant wants to add on but is seemingly fighting with himself over admitting before sighing, inhaling sharply and seeming to regain his apparently fleeting confidence in his words. “Let’s keep this a secret for now.</p><p>“A secret?"</p><p>“Yes, a secret for just us.” He doesn’t fully understand the need for secrecy, biting his lower lip as he thinks for a moment before nodding, wondering if it was a touch more serious than he first thought as Lexaeus relaxes, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, Zexion lets the illusion of Radiant garden fade away, the grey blue sky replaced by stark white, metallic walls as the patchwork of stone dissolves into nothing. There are no more birds, or breeze, the warm smells of autumn fading away into the smells of whatever dish Lexaeus was making this evening.</p><p>He could keep a secret. Axel and Saix had a secret, Xemnas also had secrets. What was another secret after all that?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Year 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Slight delay as I put off making maps for my dnd session this saturday for about 2 weeks haha. If you're curious about the cooking focus, I am an avid cook and have to include food in everything.</p><p>Points to anyone who can name the disney films referenced in this chapter, I have non canon ones planned for future but are there any you guys would love to see?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Year 2</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Meetings are boring but by no means lacking interest, Zexion using this time to study the others from his low seat as they talked over their collective mission and any new world of interest. He’d read those outline reports later, after another lesson with Vexen on magic or even another round of watching Axel and Saix spar with any of the older members, mostly Xaldin, to become more attuned to their weapons.</p><p>His had yet to appear, a sign Vexen took to strengthen his magical abilities, Zexion wondering if this was in part down to him still holding a semblance of care towards him in the same vein as Even had. Nobody had ever mentioned it, at least not before him, but Zexion can’t help but wonder if he’d be ultimately replaced, the question of his age not coming into play when compared to his peers.</p><p>Everyone has something they’re good at, it’s what his fa- Ansem had always said, Zexion more than aware that his laid in observations. He was quiet, too many times had neither Axel or Saix had noticed him following them when they were all still whole, an unneeded bribe to buy his secrecy over them having snuck in once more. Ienzo had never done it for the ice cream, not fully, he’d also done it for the opportunity to discover something.</p><p>Even now, he’s still curious as to why they were always lurking around Xehanort’s underground lab.</p><p>Zexion turns as Xemnas addresses Axel, observing the way the red head tenses under his scrutinous gaze. “The world is called Prydain. It appears to already be mostly swallowed in darkness,” A waver in his voice betrays his nerves before its gone, the usual self-assured persona coming back as if the blip had never happened.</p><p>He’s getting better at lying then, Zexion notes, swinging his feet ever so slightly as he listened to the recount of the last world VIII had visited. “Dark, depressing, talk of a horned king and a black cauldron. I couldn’t really gather much information on the world.”</p><p>“And why is that?” It’s the same voice, the same mocking tone from that night, like their leader had a joke that no soul else was privy to, humoured by the failure of a mission as if he’d set up Axel to fail. Is Xemnas testing their resolve? Their dedication to the cause? He mostly reserved this antagonising for the red head, as if the rest of them had somehow already been assessed.</p><p>Zexion hates it.</p><p>“Might I suggest something?” The youngster begins, swallowing back the sudden nerves with an edged annoyance, remembering every etiquette lesson he’d sat through with both Ansem and Even. He didn’t usually speak in meetings, in fact he hadn’t done before, releasing a calming breath before continuing as he attempted to ignore the 7 sets of eyes seemingly boring holes into him. “Would it not be easier to gather information if we blended in more? I’ve only seen Radiant Garden but I don’t believe most worlds dress this way.”</p><p>The silence that follows is somehow deafening, Zexion mentally repeating his inner mantra of <em>‘don’t back down, don’t back down’</em> as the silence only seemed to grow louder, a familiar static in his ears. Blue meets orange, an elongated pause before Xemnas lets out some semblance of a chuckle, eyes flicking to the higher seats to Zexion’s left. “In that case, see that he’s mission ready. You have six months.”</p><p>The meeting continues on as it had before, a feeling of dread curling in Zexion’s stomach as he thinks over the outcome of his outburst. He’s not ready for missions, his grasp of magic is decent but he can’t even summon his own weapon yet. He’s got six months to not only figure it out but also learn to use it to defend himself. The appreciative warmth of Axel’s occasional glance does little to temper the queasiness and the ice of Vexen’s glare. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” He knew it was Axel before the other even spoke, ash and wood smoke, not as much underlying darkness as the others. It was odd, for sure, but not something Zexion paid much heed to as it made a welcome change. He’d taken to the grey area for once, the last place anyone would expect him to dwell, making avoiding Vexen’s wrath over his outburst all the more easier. It had been 3 hours since the meeting drew to a closer, after all.</p><p>“I know.” <em>I just don’t like his voice when he talks like that</em>, he adds on mentally, shifting over ever so slightly as the red head sat down beside him, eyes still focused on the reconnaissance report in his hands. Zootropolis. Nobody was…human? Maybe he shouldn’t have opened his mouth after all, frowning as he put the file aside and focused on the next one, this time thankful to see something at least humanoid.</p><p>Yet another world where long black coats would stand out too much, Zexion isn’t surprised but still feels the blow of it.</p><p>“Is that a rhino in…capris?” Axel’s voice makes Zexion look up, the redhead frowning with pure bemusement at the file Zexion had just put to the side, thumbing through images of various animals both in clothing and doing typically human things, a low whisper of “what the fuck” accompanying the sound of shuffled photographs and pages.</p><p>It isn’t as distracting he initially thought, having Axel sat beside him, easy enough to pretend the other wasn’t there as he studied the reports, the occasional sound of Axel reacting to the file or it hitting the table serving as only a minor disturbance. He’ll practise later, when he’s alone, in the privacy of his own room where prying eyes couldn’t see him.</p><p>Lexaeus’ warning over keeping the full extent his abilities a secret had gradually extended to the rest of them, despite his now ever pressing anxiety he would be replaced at the drop of a hat. Why had he spoken up? It had only made it worse, now with an added deadline of when it would happen. He should apologise, he should do something to make Xemnas not-</p><p>He’s tapped on the nose, an assault of smoke in his senses, Zexion not even bothering to tone down his glare at Axel who, to his credit, didn’t even flinch under it.  “Now that I’ve <em>finally</em> got your attention, I’ll ask again. Do you want to practise?” Practise? Practise what? Zexion frowns at him, trying to convey his confusion over just what the other was trying to ask him only for Axel to sigh and mutter something under his breath.</p><p>“Look, you’re like five-“</p><p>“I’m ten.”</p><p>“You’re five, Xemnas may<em> literally</em> be heartless but even he’s not gonna send you out on your own.” Zexion bites back the anxiety laced retort of ‘he might’, Axel leaning in conspiratorially and the child can’t help but also lean in, expecting Axel to whisper his next words.  “So, do you wanna practise changing the appearance of someone else too?”</p><p>“I’ll just practise on Vexen when we next have a lesson.”</p><p>“Vexen has seen less missions than even you have.”</p><p>He hates that Axel has a point, inhaling through his nose sharply, face twisting with annoyance as he thought over the opportunity. Practise magic and his abilities with someone who isn’t Vexen, come under potentially less scrutiny as expectations were undoubtedly lower, maybe even have a positive response that wasn’t laced with concern and the need for secrecy.</p><p>“<em>Fine!</em>”</p><p>If Axel is bothered by his tone, it doesn’t show, the older Nobody looking more amused than anything, over exaggerating a bow before his gangly arms gestured to the two piles of reports on the table, one clearly taller than the other. “Pick your poison, Zex.”</p><p>He doesn’t bother correcting Axel on the use of the nickname, sending him a withering look before snatching the top three reports of the closest and tallest tower, thankful these were all humanoid in appearance, stretching before turning to face Axel, already mentally hearing one of his elders scold him for having a foot on the seat. A little rebellion made life more interesting, at least that’s what Braig used to say before the accident.</p><p>Prydain. Dwarf Woodlands. Kokaua.</p><p>The first two are somewhat similar, reminding Zexion of the fairy tales his mother used to read to him, mostly simple garments in muted colours, forests and woodlands twisted into monsters. The images were mostly scenery, Zexion frowning at the lack of reference before pausing on one image of Dwarf Woodlands. A small creature, more of a blurred shadow than anything, partially hidden behind a tree at the edge of the titular woods. “What’s that?”</p><p>Axel leans over, a little too close into Zexions’ personal bubble for comfort, glancing at where the child was pointing before shrugging and leaning back after making a non-committal noise. “Probably a heartless, those little shadow ones get everywhere.” But it didn’t look like one, he wants to argue, pursing his lips but electing to not pursue it further.</p><p>He hadn’t seen many, Zexion will be the first to admit, a subject he had yet to fully research so maybe Axel was right, that it was just another heartless. If he was ever sent to the Dwarf Woodlands maybe he could even look for it himself, should it still be there.</p><p>Filing away that thought for later he turns to the last file, Kokaua, taking a moment to get over the sheer difference between the first two worlds and this one. Not so much a fairy tale but a paradise, bright and vibrant colour in place of the dull muted ones, warmth seemingly radiating from the images both in terms of heat and something more emotional and familial.</p><p>He wants to go, part of him wondering if Kairi had ended up somewhere like this. It would only be fitting, she’d always thrived in the warmth and sun, like a blooming flower stretching for the light, still made him wonder what she had ever seen in him as a friend. Closing the file, he puts it back on the pile, mentally weighing up the options between Prydain and Dwarf Woodlands before also placing the latter back, handing Prydain to Axel.</p><p>“Oh for…why <em>Prydain</em>?”</p><p>Zexion hasn’t schooled himself enough to hide all the amusement from his features, a teasing lilt to his voice as he responds all too matter of factly, as if the answer was obvious. “You’ve been there, you’ve seen the people.” The frustration the flashes on Axels face like fire, all too animated as he attempts to summon an argument in his favour only to ultimately fail each and every time. “You can’t find an argument, can you?”</p><p>“Shut up.” He hisses, the prompt for him to get on with changing his appearance going unvoiced but Zexion still hears it loud and clear, picturing what he wanted to appear. Using his abilities had gotten easier with time, becoming less tiring the more he performed feats but this would be the first time he’d used them like this on another, usually the subject of them being himself.</p><p>Taking a breath, he allows black coats to transform, replaced with shirts, tunics and leggings, black boots dying themselves brown. Its near perfect, the odd shimmer revealing the illusion for what it was as his brain seemed to become fuzzy around the edges. He drops the illusion at this point, frustrated at his own limitations, wanting to voice his frustrations only to be jolted as a hand came crashing down on his head, ruffling his hair a little too aggressively for Zexion’s liking.</p><p>“That went better than I thought it would, wanna go again?”</p><p>He does, Zexion waiting for the fuzz to clear before starting the process again, a new found level of giddiness in his chest over the praise.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Vexen finds him. It takes two days but he finally corners him in the kitchen, seemingly having no qualms with addressing his thoughts about Zexion’s outburst towards Xemnas in front of Lexaeus like he did with everyone else. He was a fool to reject the option of practising the illusions with Axel again, Zexion thinks, doing his best to seek an escape route without relying on a dark corridor or an overly elaborate illusion.</p><p>“Sit down, we need to talk.” There’s no room for argument in his tone, Zexion reluctantly sliding into the seat opposite Vexen, staring not at the man but at the space just beside his head. It’s always been like this, when it came to discipline. Vexen would sit opposite him and Zexion would avoid fully looking at him. “I’m not mad with you-“</p><p>“Yes, you are.” Zexion can’t help himself, taking the momentary distraction to confirm that, yes, Vexen had closed the door behind him, ultimately cutting off that escape route. Time to be creative then, he was an illusionist after all, waiting for Vexen to put his head in his hands before acting. Checking to make sure Lexaeus isn’t looking, he duplicates himself, allowing his body to disappear as his copy sits where he previously did.</p><p>“I’m disappointed and concerned.” Vexen finished, speaking through gritted teeth, an obvious sign that if he wasn’t mad before he was at least annoyed now. “Your want to defend that buffoon is admirable but, no matter how eloquently you put it, undermining the leader to his face is foolish.”</p><p>His copy remains sat at the table, schooling the clones face to look guilty as he bit his tongue to avoid spilling the remark of ‘<em>so I should do it behind his back?</em>’. No point in angering the elder further, no doubt he’d been stewing on this since the meeting and Zexion still isn’t one hundred percent sure if that is ultimately going to work in his favour or not.</p><p>Sliding up onto the counter, away from where Lexaeus is working, Zexion tenses as his feet hit against eh cupboard door, the rattling seemingly deafening in noise as time seemed to slow. He’d given himself away, the youngster about to reveal himself and apologise when Lexaeus interrupted, the gentle giant knocking his knee against another door. “Apologies, Vexen, I was lost in a thought.”</p><p>Speaking to Vexen but looking at him, knowingly, turning back to the book he was thumbing through on the counter barely moments later. He’d been caught by one but not the other, caught but not exposed, a positive thing Zexion hoped. “You may have befriended both VII and VIII but I feel it would be more appropriate that you limited your contact with them. They both, especially VIII, have had a negative effect on you and how you approach things.”</p><p>“Would it not be beneficial to talk with people around my own age?” Zexion replies, wincing over the stretch to call either Axel or Saix close to his age, the red head the closest to him in age at a full 7 years his senior. Vexen it appears, is just as aware of this as him, grimacing himself at the knowledge that Zexion was not only correct but truly stuck without peers his own age.</p><p>“I suppose. But you must learn to keep your feelings in check, child. We are supposed to not have them after all and more outbursts at Xemnas like that may have less favourable outcomes in future.” Vexen stands after this, reaching out to touch the clone before moving his hand back, sighing deeply. “I just want you to be careful.”</p><p>“I will be, I’m sorry.” He’s sorry for concerning Vexen more than he is for his words to Xemnas, relaxing as Vexen accepts this apology and dismisses himself, his clone dissolving with the close of the kitchen door. The silence is somehow still comfortable as the illusion over himself melts away, Lexaeus paying him no mind nor heed at seeing the small Nobody once again.</p><p>“Almost perfect.” Is all he says, gesturing to Zexion’s feet with a small smile, before beckoning Zexion over, tapping on the pages of his book. Sliding off the counter, the child hurries over, perhaps a little too excitedly, stepping up onto the foot stool set up for him before Vexen’s arrival in order to make his lessons with Lexaeus easier. “Today’s lesson may be rough on your nose so let me know if it gets too much.”</p><p>“What are we learning today?” He’d taken up cooking with Lexaeus a couple of months ago, finding the smell of a dish so perfectly cooked wasn’t so much an attack on the senses as a blessing, something that cleared the overload of darkness that seemed to cling to everything around him. The lessons were infrequent but never unwelcome, always seeming to be therapeutic when compared to his others, like they weren’t lessons to begin with so much as something the pair of them could do together that didn’t centre entirely on the fact they were no longer human.</p><p>“Cooking Base.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He’s thankful that Xaldin starts off combat training easy, a focus on footwork above all else, closely followed by how to avoid a direct hit when there’s no access to a weapon. So, all the time for him if things didn’t change anytime soon, already a month into training with still no sign of it every appearing. Disguising others and expanding his energy to cast thundara or blizzara he could do, the latter spell bringing nothing but endless pride to Vexen, but his magic was still limited and battling whilst disguised is not something he wishes to think about without a weapon of his own.</p><p>It’s too exhausting, his energy already seeping out of him like a bleeding wound every single time he used disguise or magic, the feeling of being a burden having already bloomed within him regardless of who would be his partner for his first mission. Presuming he’d be granted that mercy, nobody still able to confirm if their speculation on Xemnas’ character was correct or not.</p><p>“You ready for today, kid?” There’s a promise of something in Xaldin’s voice, Zexion hesitating before nodding, simultaneously curious and somewhat fearful for what the other had planned for him. No threat had been directed at him, that much was true, but he’d bared witness to some of the more rigorous lessons he’d put Axel and Saix through more than once.</p><p>The part of him praying for history related mercy, as Xaldin summons not dusks but his spears, Zexion wondering if there’s been a mistake up until one pierces the floor beside him, the child swallowing as the spear dislodges, floating back to its master who seemed a little too thrilled with the prospect of potentially spearing him.</p><p>Laziness. He’d comment on the laziness of Axel and Saix when they’d make a mistake, make a snide comment about how Vexen never attended missions, of how he wasn’t pulling his weight. Xaldin wasn’t Dilan, they were nothing alike and Zexion would have to remember that. Dilan wouldn’t hurt him. Dilan would follow him and Kairi around the gardens after the strange creatures showed up to make sure they weren’t hurt. Xaldin, he believes, would not only hurt him but perhaps enjoy it.</p><p>“All you need to do is touch me. Consider that a warning shot.”</p><p><em>A warning shot?!</em> Another thick swallow before Xaldin fires once more, no warning or misfire this time, Zexion fully aware that he’d be impaled if he failed to move fast enough, the fresh cut in his right sleeve testament to that. Checking for blood, he turns just in time to avoid another cut, this time to his cheek, breathing a little panicked as he watched the spears return yet again to Xaldin, swaying slightly like snakes waiting to strike.</p><p>Don’t panic. Don’t panic. He repeats the mantra as Xaldin attacks once more, summoning a wall of ice, a jolt going through him with each sound of the spears connecting with the spell. He wouldn’t have much time, even with a distraction, quickly calculating how many he’d need in order to reach his teacher, taking a slow breath in and then out.</p><p>Duplication was the easiest option, the one he was most confident in, copying himself not only once but twice stopping only there as the ice wall began to shatter. Sending both distractions forward, he follows shortly after cloaking himself as he had in the kitchen, remembering what Lexaeus had said and committing it to memory. Almost perfect and he’d need better than that to best Xaldin.</p><p>Dilan had ears sharper than glass, often wouldn’t have to look up or turn to call Ienzo out on his attempts to venture out side the castle grounds alone, he could only assume Xaldin would be the same. Zexion doesn’t make it far before his suspicions are confirmed, narrowly avoiding the spear that flew past at speed, the damage it would have caused had it connected not something that child wished to think about.</p><p>“Illusions only work if you’re quiet, VI.”</p><p>Reduced to a number, Xaldin truly was both frustrated with him and enjoying himself, not bothering to turn as both his clones were impaled and faded, leaving Zexion alone with naught but the spear a hairs breadth away for company. “Let’s try again, shall we?”</p><p>If the opportunity ever arose, he’d travel back to inform his past self that lessons with Vexen, as over critical and frustrating as they were, were a joy compared to those with Xaldin, gritting his teeth as a blast of wind pushes him back further than his previous starting position and the training resumes.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>If Xigbar was trying to not be noticed, he was doing a poor job of it, Zexion electing to wait for the another to announce his presence in his usual cocksure fashion as opposed to enquire as to if he wanted something. Better to either ignore the man, and hope he left, or just let him run his course on lingering in the illusionist’s space, until he decided to do whatever it was he had come to do.</p><p>Though what Xigbar wanted in Vexen’s lab when the latter wasn’t present escaped Zexion, no matter how long he thought on it.</p><p>His chair tilts back ever so slightly as Xigbar leans on it, Zexion inwardly wishing the other had only come in looking for Vexen or to view whatever oddities the other was curating, not bothering to hide his groan of annoyance. Gun smoke and supernovas, it’s an assault on the senses, grimacing as Xigbar leaned down and even closer, like he was fully aware it bothered the young Nobody and, at this point, Zexion was more than aware it was deliberate.</p><p>“No need to be so sour, Zexion, I only want to learn something.” Doubtful, Zexion thinks, giving up on the book of spells to stare at the wall opposite, still hoping that ignoring Xigbar would make him leave. It doesn’t, it never does, it’s a fool’s hope and, yet, he still decides to pray for it as if the worlds would somehow have mercy on him. “Something only your observant little head would notice.”</p><p>He’s trying to butter him up, sweet talk him into getting what he wants, knowing full well that the child loved praise and taking advantage of it. “Thank you but I have my doubts I’ll have noticed what you want.” Quicker this is over and done with, the quicker he can be left alone. The library had become out of bounds for the most part, far too many times he’d run into both Axel and Saix talking in hushed whispers that would always stop when they noticed Zexion there.</p><p>“I wouldn’t be so sure. You practically live in the library. You must have run into moon boy and cinders in there.” Zexion pauses at the names before it clicks, the arm on the back of the chair unbalancing it a little more, Xigbar now leaning down far enough he could whisper directly into Zexions ear. “Just curious as to what they’re doing.”</p><p>“They talk and Axel spends the entire time looking at Saix like he’s never seen the sun before.” Zexion replies smoothly, not an entire lie but not a full truth either. The pair talk, this much was true, but the redhead reserved the looks usually for when Saix wasn’t looking at him never when talking to him. If Xigbar isn’t happy with the answer, he doesn’t let on, nodding solemnly as if this is what he wanted to hear.</p><p>Something Zexion doubts.</p><p>“But what do they <em>talk</em> about?”</p><p>Zexion simply fixes him with a look at this, slightly pained and uncomfortable, hoping Xigbar got the message, thankful when he did and stood back up. He mutters something to himself that sounds vaguely like ‘<em>did not see that coming’</em>, almost as if he’d been hoping and expecting to have heard something more fitting with his perceived expectations. “Can I help you with anything else or are you satisfied?”</p><p>“Satisfied, for now.” There’s something to that smile that makes him uneasy, Xigbar disappearing through a dark corridor with a wink, or so Zexion thinks, leaving behind the nervous yet bemused child. What in kingdom hearts was that ‘for now’ supposed to mean and, better yet, does he even want to find out?</p><hr/><p>Its during a break from combat training that he feels the pull again, a strange tightness in his gut as he healed the fresh cuts on his cheek, left leg and side. Xaldin had temporarily benched him due to distraction, shockingly close to caring if not for the fact he’d impaled Zexion to the floor through his coat. Another repair job for Lexaeus, Zexion feeling a tinge of guilt over it.</p><p>If he was better at avoiding things, then he wouldn’t be sat casting cure on himself, wouldn’t be stuck on the side lines watching Saix and Lexaeus spar. Perhaps wouldn’t have that tug slowly seep from his stomach to his chest, having appeared the week before and had persisted on making Zexion once again aware of its presence whenever he used magic.</p><p>Was he finally get used to casting magic? Maybe not, Zexion biting his lower lip as he thought, steadily becoming lost in them. Growing accustomed to magic was less of a pull but more of a relief, becoming less drained with the use of his abilities thus granting him the ability to experiment more. It had never acted like a magnetic attraction to something he wasn’t sure of yet.</p><p>“Shit! KID!”</p><p>The yell cuts through his thoughts, looking up not at he sparring two before him but the pair to the side, a spear heading straight for him. His mind is blank, frozen in place like his body, short circuiting as he fails to think of what to do, simply throwing his arms up to protect his face and vitals from being pierced. Only it never hits, the pull in his gut replaced by a different sensation entirely, a connection that feels familiar yet he knows he’s never experienced it before, as the new found silence in the room is shattered by the sound of a spear clattering against the floor by his feet.</p><p>Opening his eyes slowly, he carefully lowers his arms, still nervous another spear would be making a beeline for him only to find a book, thick and old, floating in the air before him only to suddenly drop, a thud and a clatter as it the spear and sent it rolling away.</p><p>A book. His weapon was a book? His comrades had gained weapons such as swords, lances and claymores and he had gained a book. It’s funny, he thinks bitterly, remembering Ansem’s old words of how knowledge was the most powerful weapon at your disposal and here he was, armed with a tome bursting with pages of lord only knows what.</p><p>Its lighter than it looks, Zexion letting out an inquisitive hum as he leafed through the pages, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that losing focus on his surroundings here would be a bad idea. It’s a story and, yet, it isn’t, seeing moments of his own memories printed on pages but also excerpts of Xaldin and Axel, diagrams of their weapons and a basic outline of how they fought with them.  Almost like the book had somehow downloaded all the information it could when the spear had made contact with it.</p><p>What else was stored within? How else could he fill the pages? Questions are running a mile and minute in his head as he’s tapped on the shoulder, Saix not speaking, only nodding towards the door to leave, the teenager letting out the barest of winces when Xaldin’s voice grows in volume. Bellowing at Axel over how protecting yourself should not come at the cost of injuring the other in your party.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>His first meeting in a while, Zexion having missed the past few due to over working himself or, after a gruelling session with Xaldin, being a little too injured to remain awake enough to attend. Nobody had reprimanded him for it, no snide comment in the grey room from one of his superiors when they found him alone, pouring over the files on worlds he might visit one day. But he still felt on edge, like something was about to happen that he’d be unable to stop even if he tried.</p><p>“How has progression with VI been coming along?” Xemnas may be looking at him but he knows the question is directed at the others, Zexion clenching his fists and grimacing. Did he have to be present for this? Of course he did, the Superior’s need to exert his dominance over them all through humiliation was well known now, especially to the youngest two members. If Saix faced the same, it wasn’t done openly and in front of the rest of the Organization.</p><p>“His magic is advancing well, a jack of all trades you could say. He’s progressing wonderfully.” Praise from Vexen, not entirely unexpected but still surprising to hear in such a public arena, he must truly be proud of himself for it. Was he bitter? Perhaps, just a little, wishing the blonde could compliment him without boosting his own ego at the same time.</p><p>“He’s lacking in physical qualities but he’ll manage. I would advise a companion or two for his first missions as, whilst his weapon has manifested, I doubt he’ll be successful.” A vote of confidence from Xaldin but he’s relieved to say the least, Xaldin had the second highest seat, second only to Xemnas, surely their superior would listen to something he had to say and at least take it into consideration.</p><p>Xemnas is quiet, nothing too unusual from the man but it still strikes a spark of uncertainty in Zexion. “Very well, we will continue as planned. Wait for me after the meeting, VI, I have something I wish to discuss.” This was it. He was going to be replaced, Xemnas was going to tell him his fate once his sermon on the power of Kingdom Hearts was over. He was going to be turned into a dusk.</p><p>Maybe this was to do with him lying to Xigbar? Had Xigbar figured out his twisted truth and reported him to Xemnas? The anxiety is eating him alive, doubts over the statement they weren’t supposed to feel emotions stronger than ever, the impulse to run and hide becoming harder and harder to ignore the longer Xemnas made him wait outside the Round Room.</p><p>“Walk with me.” Is all Xemnas says upon finally appearing, hands clasped behind his back as he strode, Zexion having to jog in order to keep up. “Tell me of your weapon, what have you discovered?” Should he be honest? Xemnas finally slowing his pace when Zexion remained silent, waiting for Zexion to catch up before continuing the walk at more leisurely pace.</p><p>“It contains a story made of both my memories and those it comes into contact with.” Zexion replies carefully, watching as Xemnas stiffened, looking back to him with such honest curiosity that the illusionist doubted he had the same man before him. Not, mocking, no sense of an inflated ego, just a lost man who looked a mix of hope and curiosity.</p><p>This wasn’t Xemnas. This wasn’t Xehanort. This was someone else.</p><p>“Interesting.” Xemnas replies carefully, his usual demeanour seeming to slip back in as a dark corridor opened up before the pair, Zexion looking between his superior and the corridor with confusion. “Search your memories for a girl with blue hair, you’re dismissed.” He leaves with that, stepping through the corridor that closes behind him, leaving Zexion alone in the naughts approach.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You can also find me here, please shout zemyx thoughts at me:</p><p>Tumblr: TwiliShark (main blog) &amp; Jackidy (writing side blog)<br/>Twitter: LegendOfWes</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Year 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Its difficult to not look at Saix.</p><p>The wound is new, still fresh but it fails to look it, a faint swelling around the eyes and the red hue that came with it the only thing that gave away any hint to the recent wound. Cauterised, a giant cross to mar his face stretching from brow to cheek, Zexion can only wonder when looking at it won’t bring a cold feeling of unease to his stomach. ‘You know who did that to him.’ A voice whispers in the back of his head, a voice that suspiciously sounds like his whole self, cloaking himself on instinct as the smell of moonshine and cinders permeated the library.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AND WE'RE BACK!! Sorry for the delay! I moved mid september and literally got my internet back about 20 minutes ago haha. Apologies for short chapter, it was planned to be longer however the sheer number of complications that arose post moving, both personal and nationwide, somewhat killed motivation for writing. </p><p>Hope to be back on form for the next chapter as well as a little something i've been working on for halloween</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Year 3</em>
</p><p>It’s hard to not become lost within the world of Crescentia, the sight of space igniting excitement in his bones as the heavy smell of industry, stale and fuel heavy, settled in his lungs like a welcome hug. His second visit to this world, to observe and record its people, its status and the spread of darkness but none of that mattered, his orders pushed to the back of his mind as black coats melded into those of the world: soft browns, comfortable and easy to move in, soft fabrics, loose clothes and tight boots.</p><p>Zexion adores it here.</p><p>“I do wish you’d stop running off as soon as we land.” Despite Vexen’s sour remark, the excitement Zexion feels is not quenched, only half listening to the scientist’s complaint as a ship flies overhead, sails seemingly made of shimmering gold, sailing straight for the abyss of space. “Are you listening to me, child?” He’s jerked out of his amazement, hand firmly on his shoulder as if to tether him to reality, finally looking up to Vexen who not annoyed but understanding.</p><p>“Not a word.” Perhaps its cheeky, a comment too far but he finds himself not caring, breathless with exhilaration and the closest he’s felt to human in near three years. To his credit, Vexen says nothing, simply sighing and shaking his head before letting go of Zexion’s shoulder, gesturing forward with his hands with the smallest of smiles on his lips.</p><p>“Don’t go too far.” The scientist sighs, allowing Zexion to run off, his gaze never straying to far from where the child was. Any other time he’d be annoyed, slip away with an illusion and then deal with wrathful consequences later but in this world, in this world the pressure of his expectations was merely a blip in the background, muffled by the wonder at every marvel he saw.</p><p>Radiant Garden and the advancements in technology, now laying dormant in the castle’s bowels, had never felt less important to him. What was the power of the heart in comparison to the lure of adventure? The appeal of flying galleons soaring through the night sky to endless discoveries a sirens call?</p><p>Vexen is, as always, easily distracted by oddities, the market littered with both curiosities the scientists could barely fathom to the more familiar and mundane. Baked goods sold alongside livestock, monsters of the deep space that almost resembled the shadow creatures that dwelled outside the marble walls in The World That Never Was, missing only the symbol to denote their true nature.</p><p>But then, the Shadow Heartless also never had them.</p><p>Perhaps that’s why Vexen is observing them so closely, listening fully enraptured as the salesman spills their pitch. From the abyss of space, found on some remote planet that was begging to be colonised, docile and somewhat clingy, would make an excellent pet for his young son. These worlds were fully of strange beings, Zexion knows this, Vexen knows this, but the hauntingly yellow eyes and jittering movements seem out of place even in this bazaar of galactic wonders.</p><p>“Do you have any other creatures like this?”  It’s hard to miss the way the other’s eyes light up, fully trusting a sale was to be made, scaled and clawed hands rubbing together in either excitement or from the cold, both Nobodies assuming it to be the former. “Would there be anywhere my son could go whilst we discuss? Children can be rather talkative and the end outcome is, well, to be a surprise for my wife.”</p><p>Zexion refrains from snorting, his humour brought to life by the mere thought of who the mystery wife back at the castle was. Xaldin? No, Lexaeus? Perhaps. Xigbar and Xemnas were just laughable, Zexion acting ever the innocent and unsuspecting child as he was led to a nearby stall. Manned only by an elderly woman, strangely tortoise like in appearance, a stall full of an all manner of delicacies, baked, golden and still warm, as claws deftly wove wool together.</p><p>“Stay here and don’t cause any trouble for, Ms Bones.”</p><p>Is it Vexen or the seller who speaks? Zexion doesn’t know, nervous as he takes the seat next to the creature, her large yellow eyes watching him all the way. She had pupils, she’s not one of the heartless monsters, but, then again, she wouldn’t be the first heartless creature he had met with pupiled yellow eyes. Xehanort held firmly onto that title, even if Zexion was a greater monster than even he. It was his fault the lab had been built in the first place.</p><p>Without that lab, none of this would have ever happened.</p><p>“Do you like stories, young master?” Her voice creaks as she speaks, like old wood in a storm, pausing her knitting to offer him a pasty from the table before continuing. It’s still warm, the heat welcome in both his finger tips and mouth as he cautiously took a bite, nervous as to what he might taste only to find the warmth of a homemade meal wrapped in layers of flaky, buttery pastry.</p><p>He nods, both in enjoyment of the food and to encourage her on, the monster of an elder not so much scary now as she was inviting, sharing in the same curse Lexaeus had. Intimidating yet warm. Perhaps all the best people were, for Zexion himself was neither of these and, by no means, one of the better people.</p><p>“I have many stories, let’s see…” She frowns as she ponders, knitting paused as she stares at a spot in the market stall roof before something seems to sparkle in her eye, an excitement seeming to burn through her. “Have you heard of the great Captain Nathaniel Flint?” He shakes his head this time, mouth still filled with food, old lessons from both Dilan and Ansem on the rudeness of speaking with a full mouth as clear as ever. Ms Bones grins, or so Zexion supposes, crooked teeth exposed as she swoops in, a little too close for comfort, knitting abandoned on her lap before leaning away, becoming more expressive as she recalls the tale of her choosing. “There are nights when the Etherium is as calm and peaceful as a pond of the planet Pelasnor…”</p>
<hr/><p>As the months have passed since his initial request, Zexion has grown to dread the one on one meetings with Xemnas. By no means frequent but always end the same, with a look of disdain and contempt every single time he failed to achieve what Xemnas wanted him to, something easier said than done when the only thing the other had given him to work with was a girl with blue hair. None resided in his memories, none of any significance at least, the only memories of blue hair belonging to the old Saix, Isa.</p><p>Zexion has his doubts that the girl Xemnas wants to remember was Isa.</p><p>The whole process of helping his superior to remember would be easier if he allowed him to use his book to it’s full potential, Zexion tensing with annoyance as his elder once again admonished him. “Your lack of improvement with your abilities is disappointing, VI.” Never one to mince his words, was he? Zexion inhaling slowly to try and temper down the remark clawing at his throat. “Try again.”</p><p>“The result will be the same, sir, I need more information to work from.” Vexen would be proud of the civility, he thinks, unclenching his hands as he studied Xemnas’ face, waiting for a reaction. Nothing. It doesn’t even move. A blank canvas of a face just looking back at him, as if he hadn’t even registered what the child had even said. “If you make contact with my Lexicon, things will be easier.”</p><p>That garners a reaction, both a frown and glare marring Xemnas’ features and Zexion feels every bit the child he was, something akin to fear creeping down his spine. “Disappointing.” Xemnas repeats, the dismissal clear in his voice, Zexion not bothering for it to be vocal before standing to leave. A shake in his hands, he takes a breath, a shallow bid to calm the anger curling within him as he offered his superior both a mock bow and an ever so ingenuine apology.</p><p>“My apologies,<em> sir</em>. I’ll aim to be less disappointing to <em>you</em> next time.”</p><p>If Xemnas notices the contempt in his voice, the older nobody says nothing, a lazy wave of the hand the only indication Zexion gets that the other heard a word he said. Good, he thinks, opening a portal to his own quarters on the off chance Xigbar would bother him for secrets once more, he’d rather the superior think of him as beneath his expectations of the child.</p><p>Would make proving him wrong later all the more satisfying.  </p>
<hr/><p>The lab is cold, freezing even, Zexion curious as always as to if Vexen made it that way or if he was simply unaware of the chill, a curious side glance to the redhead exuding heat near by causing Zexion to conclude that maybe, just maybe, it was intentional. His lack of respect and joy for Axel, both as a Somebody and a Nobody, would be humorous if Zexion wasn’t concerned he’d become an unforeseen casualty in the process.</p><p>Vexen’s experiments on the creatures from Crescentia seemed to have been going well then, newer creatures than the ones they initially brought back blinking back at the trio with curiosity, though some cowered whilst others prowled, clearly hostile. Was that why Axel was here? Make shift security in case something went wrong? He wasn’t usual present for this but he’d been ushered into the lab by an almost excited Vexen, energized ramblings of needing a witness to his hypothesis spilling from his lips.</p><p>And that’s how he finds himself sat here, clipboard in hand, looking between Vexen, still muttering to himself as he bent over a lab report, and Axel, finger poised and ready to tap on the glass of the nearest enclosure. “Confirming my earlier thoughts, the samples we collected from Crescentia have proven to be heartless. Whilst this world holds no known keyblade wielder, theorized to be the only thing to truly destroy a heartless and free the heart within, this world has show resilience in that they have not only managed to subdue the creatures but also cage and transport them without the means of darkness.”</p><p>“Would it be ridiculous to suggest that perhaps they were waiting for a place with more prey? Crescentia is a bustling port.” Zexion pipes up, the lab falling into silence bar the tap of a finger on glass, Vexen’s face seeming to go through the motions of denial and acceptance of Zexion’s concept, clapping his hands together before rubbing them together as yet another wave of giddy energy washed over his mentor.</p><p>“That would suggest a level of intelligence not exhibited in the others, something for further research and development. Would you be willing to- “He cuts himself off, both scientists turning to the red head as he continued to tap, the heartless inside growling as it once again lashed out against the glass. “Continue to tap that tank, VIII, and I will tap you with the spiked edge of my shield.”</p><p>Axel pauses midtap and Zexion bites back a laugh, the red head clearly not bothered by the withering glare sent in his direction, something that only added to the hilarity of the situation. “You’re the one ignoring me here, doc, you said there was a reason you forced me down here.” Axel straightens and shrugs, an illusion of cocksure grandeur upon him as he smirks at the blonde. “Gotta entertain myself somehow.”</p><p>“You’re here to assist in taking down a specimen should it escape and attack.” His voice is firm, Zexion recognising it as the one he frequently used upon Xigbar whenever the other lurked around the labs, his gaze now reserved for the file in his hand. As if the younger nobody wasn’t worth the effort of looking at. “Frankly, I’d have asked for anyone else but it seems the Superior deemed it required everyone else be mission bound.”</p><p>A splutter of indignation, Zexion taking a shaky breath in as the laughter threatened to overflow, Axel’s protests over Vexen’s remark seeming falling on deaf ears as the elder Nobody simply ignored him in favour for his research.</p><p>---</p><p>Its difficult to not look at Saix.</p><p>The wound is new, still fresh but it fails to look it, a faint swelling around the eyes and the red hue that came with it the only thing that gave away any hint to the recent wound. Cauterised, a giant cross to mar his face stretching from brow to cheek, Zexion can only wonder when looking at it won’t bring a cold feeling of unease to his stomach. ‘<em>You know who did that to him.’</em> A voice whispers in the back of his head, a voice that suspiciously sounds like his whole self, cloaking himself on instinct as the smell of moonshine and cinders permeated the library.</p><p>“We should have been more careful.” Saix’s voice is hushed but all noises carry in an otherwise silent library, Zexion’s grip on the book tightening as the teenaged pair walk past, two pairs of eyes scanning the alleyways between shelves for any sign of life in an almost paranoid fashion. Illusions only work if you’re silent, Xaldin had lectured as much months ago and he’d committed it to memory ever since, regulating his breathing to something more silent and shallow as he listened in.</p><p>“We were careful.” His voice is soft, Zexion peering through the bookcase to find Axel reaching for Saix’s face, hand quivering before a cheek before the preteen moves away, grimacing both over the act and the sight of the scar. It was bad enough he was eavesdropping in on the clearly private conversation, why add further discomfort by bearing visual witness to it. “He hurt you, Isa.”</p><p>The silence returns, Zexion ready to make his escape, planning to summon a clone outside the door to open it only to hesitate as he hears a drawn-out sigh. “We should stop this, Axel, at least until we know his suspicions have been dropped.”</p><p>“Do you not care about finding her anymore? I thought the whole reason we joined was for her!”</p><p>“We got careless and now her name, <em>his brand</em>, is across my face.”</p><p>Calm and collect verses a heat and fury, a contrast in tones but both spoken with underlining meanings that Zexion was not privy to knowing. The stench of acrid smoke is almost suffocating, steadily building as the exchange continues, the illusionist taking a deeper breath to launch his escape when the argument comes to a head. Acrid smoke simmers away into almost nothing, the hostility in the air evaporating, leaving the young nobody curious as to what Saix did to both calm and soothe Axels temper.</p><p>“He hurt her. He hurt me. I won’t let him hurt you.”</p>
<hr/><p>It’s been a while since his last lesson with Lexaeus, the gentle giant almost always off world recently due to missions now assigned by Saix, leaving much of Zexion’s explorations within the science of food in his own hands. He’d missed it, though he hesitates to admit it, a sense of normality in their otherwise abnormal non-lives, the sound of a knife against a chopping board more soothing than it had any real reason to be.</p><p>“Where were you sent this time?” Zexion enquires, hair meticulously pinned out of his eyes as he worked his way through the potatoes for today’s lesson. There’s no response at first, the child wondering if the other had even heard him, opening his mouth with every intention of repeating the question when he finally gets his response.</p><p>“Atlantica.”</p><p>“How was it?”</p><p>The knife pauses, accompanied by a thoughtful hum.</p><p>“Wet.”</p><p>A choked laugh, the mixture of a dry delivery and little to no change in expression, if Lexaeus hadn’t intended the comment as a joke then he had failed in delivery. Taking the next potato, he grimaces, placing it to the side before reaching to the next, the duality of his sense of smell, both a blessing and a curse, never more apparent.</p><p>“Spoilt?” Zexion nods, setting about his work again, counting each of prepared tubers before continuing. One per person. It’s what the recipe called for but it was doubtful everyone would eat the food they provided, they hadn’t before now and Zexion has difficulty believing that would change now. “You’re getting better at recognising the differences.”</p><p>“I’ve had time to practise, I wasn’t trusting Vexen to cook for me.” Vexen was many things. A brilliant, if not slightly mad, scientist who strove the test the limits of what was thought possible. His most prominent father figure. Somewhat paranoid in most matters involving the Superior, though, Zexion can only surmise this was in response to the events that lead to this hollow existence in the first place. But he was, in any shape or form, a cook, his reservoir of culinary knowledge extending little beyond the simplest of dishes and, whilst delicious, the pallet can only withstand scrambled eggs and toast for so long.</p><p>This gains him a chuckle, Zexion wiping peelings and the rejected vegetable into the bin, turning back to his work station only to be presented with a small knife and the instruction to cut into one-inch cubes. “What if I cut myself?” He feels ridiculous asking, he’s more than old enough to use a knife to prepare food and had done whilst Lexaeus was gone, his gloves hiding the evidence of misadventure with knife skills whilst alone in the kitchen.</p><p>“Then you’ll learn not to do it again.”</p><p>He wants to take off his gloves, to exhibit the plethora of small nicks in his fingers and prove the giant wrong, staring at his hands a little too intently before taking the knife from Lexaeus and sighing. There was no point in worrying him, he thinks, the momentary satisfaction of proving him wrong wouldn’t be worth the aftermath like it was with the rest of his peers, tongue poking out from lips as Zexion set about completing his task.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>They’ve recorded details of the heartless brought from Crescentia, from size to attack style, the only thing lacking in their basic research of the creatures to be if they would release a heart upon perishing. Nobody within the world was a keyblade wielder, at least to their knowledge, and it seemed unlikely they would find one to complete this aspect of their notes anytime soon.</p><p>Researching the intelligence of the heartless had proved fruitless beyond proving that, despite the evidence to the contrary in Crescentia, they didn’t hold a higher semblance of intelligence. Slouching over the desk, a task easier said than done when it was built for Vexen, Zexion pinches his pen in the middle, sending the heartless tank opposite him an intense stare as he rapidly tapped the ends of the pen in tandem.</p><p>Something was bothering him, something he couldn’t yet put his finger on, counting down the five minutes Vexen said he’d be absent for in mumbles as his thoughts ran wild with potential theories and hypotheses. Most encountered held a lower level of intelligence, some attacked in pack formation like feral wolves, they all had bright yet hollow yellow eyes and some had symbols on them whilst others had none.</p><p>There was something here they were overlooking, something obvious and it infuriated him, no doubt it bothered Vexen too. One hundred and sixty-four seconds. Two minutes and fourteen seconds. That’s how long he had to come up with even a slither of an idea of what this all meant in the grand scheme of things, pen flying from his fingers after his grip slackens and a tap too hard.</p><p>A lesser nobody brings it back, a Scholar, one of Vexen’s own personal type, all points and stiff lines. They were more pleasant to look at than the lowest of them, the dusks, boneless creatures that would drag themselves hip forward when Zexion imagines it would be better to slither on the floor like a snake. The opposite of heartless, the small shadows at least, who juddered and quaked with every movement, seemingly as stiff as rusted iron whilst the dusks were as fluid as water at times.</p><p>He’s still looking at the Nobody when Vexen returns, tea in hand and countdown forgotten, a clearing of the throat snapping Zexion from his thoughts as he jolts up, clearly startled as his eyes settle on his mentor and fellow researcher. “Surely I wasn’t gone so long, child, that you felt the need to daydream.”</p><p>“Not daydream, but observe and think.” Zexion corrects, accepting the cup of deep red tea as it was handed to him, refraining from slouching as he nursed the hot porcelain in his hands. Anything to warm his hands in this lab without vocally asking Vexen to do something about the cold, knowing full well the elder would either ignore him or admonish him for something that was apparently the cause of his poor circulation. The past three months as assistant on Vexen’s mission to catalogue and code the different heartless had confirmed that Vexen was not only immune to the chill of his lab but likely also the cause.</p><p>“Did your observations lead you to any conclusions of interest?” A loaded question, by all means, their goals the same but what qualified as a point of interest between the two did not always coincide. Zexion takes a large swig of his tea, still too hot to count as fully drinkable but would aid in the next few moments should Vexen dismiss his idea as something not worth thinking about, his throat burning as warmth spread through his system.</p><p>“We’re two sides of the same coin, the result of what happens when a human or being loses its heart. If they follow a similar ranking and classification as we do in terms of power then…”</p><p>“Then it would not be out of the question if the higher ranks have the power to control the lesser heartless.” Vexen finishes, no cold dismissal in the air as it appeared the blonde was not only taken with the concept but on board with it. Within the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t overly important, not really, thoughts of the heartless only stretching as far as an annoyance and a tool to be used to gain access to Kingdom Hearts within the Organisation. Xemnas might know more but, as with most things, he was too tight lipped to spill any secret knowledge he may have.</p><p>“You know this all serves no purpose, right, Child?”</p><p>“Yes.” Zexion nods, thought for a moment before the faintest of smiles tugs at his lips. He wonders if Vexen can still recall the small, nonsensical experiments they would do as somebodies, when he’d walk up with the confidence only a small child could muster and slide a crude drawing over a wooden desk of what he wanted to do and the results he wanted.</p><p>They were always simple. How to make flames burn in different colours, how different things contort and change under extreme temperatures, or if they even did, and, more often than not, how to cause the most amount of damage in the smallest amount of time. Childish in nature and, yet, Even still approached them with all the seriousness of a man on the brink of a new scientific discovery. It’s what initially inspired him to delves into the sciences, the desire to be just like Even.</p><p>“You’ve left a feeling of nostalgia in me, young one, a fleeting joy.” His voice is oddly soft, Vexen not looking at him but Zexion knows him to be smiling, no matter how faint it may be. How long has it been since they shared a moment like this, without a hint of resentment addled disappointment towards each other? As what they were regardless of form, a father and son both overly invested in a shared topic. “You’re swaying me onto a dangerous trajectory, the day is not ours to waste."</p><p>The silence stretches on, cobalt meets acid green and a grin brimming with unrestrained mischief stretches the child’s lips. “And yet I see your body turning towards the cabinets filled with the potential for mischief, old man.” A manic smile returns his and Zexion can barely contain the excitement coursing through his veins.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You can also find me here:</p><p>Tumblr: <a href="https://www.twilishark.tumblr.com">TwiliShark</a> (main blog) &amp; <a href="https://jackidy.tumblr.com">Jackidy</a> (writing side blog)<br/>Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/LegendofWes">LegendOfWes</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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